I love this picture. I have to explain why my son is holding a rooster, and why this picture is so funny to me. We homeschool and last year, I got the brilliant idea that we could do an embryology project and hatch ourselves some chickens. I'm an awful chicken hatcher, so the guy who was supplying us with the eggs to hatch felt bad for us and decided to share his successful hatches with us. We got 30 or so baby chicks. That was a few too many and my husband's uncle took a dozen. A year and a half later, we are down to 10 chickens - we live in the woods and the hawks had a feast last year.
This particular rooster is marked for death. This guy attacks me every morning when I try to get in the car. He attacks me every afternoon when I get home. In fact, the little booger attacks me every time I walk outside my house. I am seriously going to beat this chicken to death one of these days, and then we'll have roast rooster for dinner. And I won't feel bad at all. They are, after all, a food source. But this stupid rooster is the sweetest thing to Dylan. Dylan just walks right up to him, grabs him up, and gives him hugs, carries him around, treats him like a best friend. I have no idea why this ridiculous bird hates me so much, but he is just darling for my son. Almost like he realizes that to attack the little one would mean instant death. Except he doesn't attack the two older boys either. He does attack my husband and my daughter, but not any of the boys. Huh... go figure.